


cause i'm the only one who understands how to make you feel like a man

by r1ker



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker





	cause i'm the only one who understands how to make you feel like a man

To Holland, Jackson's mouthy. Not in the whole _you really need to listen closely as to what you're saying you horse's ass_ but in like, the guy's got an oral fixation sort of way. Holland sees it in the way he ends up under Jackson for the first time, receiving one kiss on the mouth and the others tucked into the crook of his jaw, where his neck still stings from a cut shaving, right along where his shoulders get bumpy from being generally scrawny.

 

He urges him on by the way one of his hands slips into Jackson's hair, down the back of his neck as Jackson makes easy work of Holland's sports coat, his button up shirt. When he turns his face to watch him he lets out a sigh as Jackson senses it, stops with his face resting against Holland's throat. There, his lips part and there's a slight graze of his teeth over the skin there. Holland sucks in an involuntary gasp and lets it out slowly.

 

"Let's leave them above the collar line please," Holland warns as Jackson resumes, biting just along his neck but stopping every once in a while to suck at his skin. Even as he's being seen to as to his own needs Holland runs his hands across Jackson's chest. His palm crosses right over where Jackson's heart thuds in his rib cage. All the while Jackson bites, urging his pulse up higher and higher.

 

The way they're positioned on Jackson's bed, the broken glass and bullet casings swept onto the floor to allow them room to rut as they are doing unabashedly now, gives Holland just enough space to nudge his hips against the hollow of Jackson's pelvis. Here he's more at ease than he has been in weeks, knowing Jackson's interest spiraled into this in the best sort of way. While he's off in his own little world Jackson bites down especially hard near the base of his throat and startled, he yelps.

 

"Easy," Jackson warns. One of Holland's hands clutches hard at Jackson's shoulder. He returns just briefly to kiss Holland properly, once, twice, running his thumb absently over the marks on Holland's neck he's created. Not uncommon to get overwhelmed when you've gone your whole life thinking you're straight. Jackson knows that the two of them have got a lot of uncharted territory to go through, but for right now, he can strike one landmark off of his list.

 

Holland, it just so happens to be, fucking loves to be bitten. Not ever to the point of bleeding – Jackson doesn't believe in inflicting pain like that on someone unless they're aware of it – but just enough to that the sting left behind is far above anything else Jackson could think to do to his body. And, to be fair, Jackson thinks he tastes great. Doesn't use any sort of bad soaps and he smells unlike anything Jackson's ever found.

 

Speaking of finding things, Jackson's still not sure he knows all of Holland in the way he wants to. So now he moves down, shoves the rest of Holland's shirts out of his way as his lips pass over a chest lacking much of anything other than goosebumps, down a flat stomach. There he has a little bit more to cover, nips aimlessly where Holland's legs pull up and crook out to allow him to settle in the cradle of his hips.

 

"Look, you don't have to," Holland starts. Jackson continues on working him up, one hand around his cock, stroking it back up against his trembling belly. He can see in Holland's eyes he genuinely wasn't expecting this to go past mindless frottage but in a strange sort of way Jackson owes him this.

 

"You," Jackson kisses just below his belly button, feels the skin pebble beneath his lips during a shiver of anticipation, "are far too nice to pass up." He could give into him, blow him within an inch of his life and leave him heaving for breath on the mess that is Jackson's bed, but the foreplay surpasses the act itself. Looking over Holland he can see nothing wrong with his skin save for a raised scar low on his thigh. It's long as if it's from someone's deliberate hand that wielded a knife, and he looks up at Holland for further explanation.

 

"I got stabbed when I was still on the force," he admits, his hand still working in Jackson's hair. Jackson continues to listen to him, head nodding once in recognition, moving down to bite along the backs of Holland's thighs. Holland takes in a deep breath only to let it out seconds later, and tries to continue as best as he can. "It was deep and they told me it'd never healed enough to be taken care of later with those removal surgeries or whatever. I think it's kinda cool, gives me that rugged pirate look…"

 

He trails off once Jackson gets around to sucking his cock. Now he focuses all of his strength on remembering to breathe as Jackson's mouth works far better than he'd been aware of. God, it's great, the slow and steady feel of his tongue running down. He's trying to stop hyperventilating and put all the rising anxiety he feels so vulnerable laid out like this into enjoying every last second. By the way heat pools in his belly it's bound to not last very long at all.

 

The silence that follows after he makes the point about his scar is deafening. Jackson is deadly quiet as he works, hands warm and heavy as they palm between Holland's thighs, on either side of his face. His eyes aren't entirely closed, hovering open just a little so he doesn't entirely succumb to it. Holland looks back down at him only to look back up; the flush spreading across Jackson's face, down his neck and chest where his shirt's been opened at the first three buttons, is so much.

 

"It's not your sexual prowess that makes me want to climb you like a tree," Holland gasps out, back arching when Jackson's fingers, completely dry, prod and catch on his hole, the implication of something greater. He can't stop tensing up as the fingers work inside, with them soon the slide of Jackson's tongue. Amazingly he holds it together long enough to keep explaining himself. "You care a lot about the stuff I thought was second nature. And you don't make me feel like an idiot. Oh, and, the tongue's really good, that's really good."

 

Jackson chuckles against him and as his own answer Holland reaches down to swat at the top of his head. "Don't get too cocky, I'll snatch you." He bites his tongue the instant Jackson's edges further and further inside him. After agonizing seconds teetering on the edge he comes, nails digging in to the crown of Jackson's head, voice cracking on a moan when he finally does open his mouth to expel a breath.

 

Holland takes precious seconds to catch his breath while Jackson moves up against him, lying down with a groan with his face settling into a shoulder, hand warm at Holland's waist. Between them Jackson's already come, end sought in response to just being so giving to Holland. He comes back a little from the haze when he remembers what Holland had said in the heady throes of his own pleasure, the comments maybe meant to be mindless soon signifying just how completely they've come together over the last few weeks.

 

Jackson watches Holland reach over to the cigarette, light one with shaky hands but just enough edge to the adrenaline to get one going, orange flame glowing in the near-dark of the bedroom. "You mean it?"

 

With the cigarette dangling from his lips Holland grunts in the affirmative. He pulls his cigarette back and Jackson watches that mouth raptly, the curls of smoke from it, and reaches up to take the cigarette from Holland's fingers, puff at it. "Every single word, but we're going to have to cover as a couple you taking my cigs. Years pass by and so does the sinfully cheap price of cigarettes, so ante up."

 

"Even after sex?" Jackson's eyes crinkle at the corners just to fuck with Holland, and to his settling bliss Holland grants him an indulgent smile. He gets a kiss to the forehead, the temple, for his troubles. Holland passes him back the cigarette from time to time as they continue to lie in bed. But after a while, he feels he successfully answers Jackson's question.

 

The first cigarette goes out. Holland lights another and throws the pack as best as he can to its spot on the nightstand. "Even after sex. As long as you don't smoke like a chimney in the afterglow." He reaches down and pulls the sheets up over them, holding the cigarette over his head so that he doesn't start an inferno. Then Jackson really gets close and personal with him, one leg shifting between Holland's. "Or don't successfully knee me into being infertile. Easy there, Brawny paper towel man." Jackson pinches his hip and kisses just beneath his chin.


End file.
